Impulses
by Kiyoko Usagi
Summary: The Winter Soldier had expected they'd meet again. He just didn't expect the blonde's voice to send shivers down his spine, or when their eyes locked it felt like someone inside the Soldier was screaming, begging to come forth, begging to be reunited with an old flame. He's not sure how much longer he has to suppress these impulses before Rogers figures it out himself.
1. Chapter 1

I'm late to this party. I also haven't read a single fanfiction on them so I've no idea if this idea is overdone or not (probably is), but I couldn't shake it out of my mind so here it goes?

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><p>He'd saved him… That blonde, goody-goody with the righteous jaw line and star spangled costume… He was his mission. Point, shoot, done. Granted this mission went entirely awry. The Winter Soldier hadn't taken into account accomplices that could fly or that conniving red head. He also didn't take into account that "Captain America" would know him… or at least claim to know him. Any thoughts of it being some weird scheme to gain the upper hand were obliterated by his refusal to fight the Soldier on the aircraft. The second the Captain had first uttered <em>his<em> name everything the Soldier knew had shattered; exploding into thousands of pieces of a false realties that had become all The Asset knew. The memories that he thought were there, but wasn't entirely sure if they really _were_ there had become ravenous hounds, hungry to be fed, to be given a chance to live again. Then it had all been taken away once more… But the Soldier knew that now… The longer he was out of cryo, the more he started to remember, closer to present first and then further and further away.

Gritting his teeth, he walked into the museum exhibit. Why? He'd been here before. He'd seen it all already. Each time it was the same thing. He'd look at a life not his. Be taunted with a face that looked like his. But a life he had never experienced…at least not yet. He'd seen this exhibit too many times to deny that he was once in fact Bucky Barnes.

Hydra was clever with their handling of him. They made sure to memory wipe when necessary but always made sure he knew he had his memory wiped. It was like a taunt. He knew they'd catch up to him eventually. The tracking devices and fail-safes were still implemented deep within his mechanical arm. Instinctively, he looked down at his left appendage, before pulling his arms into a tight cross over his chest. He walked further into the exhibit, now hearing the audio telling the story of Captain America's life.

Steve Rogers. The Soldier's throat clenched and his stomach flipped. He felt the undeniable sensation to run.

He walked along the railing, looking at the trinkets and memorabilia of America's Greatest Captain. He stopped in front of one blown up image. It was his own face. Each time this part of the exhibit froze his heart. On it a short blurb about his life, his date of birth and date of death. The words and dates rang hollow on a man who couldn't remember any of it. He couldn't remember when he was young; he couldn't even remember when he was grown. He looked up, listening to the narrator, talking about the Howling Commandos. "Barnes was the only Howling Commando to give his life…"

He didn't want to listen anymore. He'd heard it all before. Over and over. Morning and afternoon. He watched in a strange sense of shock, anger and terror as little clips showed him and Rogers standing next to each other. He watched the smiles of men who didn't _seem_ to know true suffering or fear, but did…they had taken on Hydra; The Red Skull. They had won! That guy and Captain America. This man, standing before the exhibit with a metal arm and disheveled brown hair was not Bucky Barnes. He was someone else who stole a dead man's face. It was what he came to feel each and every time he walked this now all-too-familiar exhibit.

"Twelve times…" a man with dark chocolate skin said next to the Soldier. He wore a security hat and a silver pin atop his beast pocket that signified him as one of the security members. "I've seen you come in here twelve times."

Of course, the brunette didn't respond. He grunted, shrugging and attempted to walk away.

"Oh, not for the talking I see? Maybe shooting at guys is more your style?"

This time, the Soldier turned to really look at the man. He was familiar… His eyes widened in realization. He was that stupid flying guy! Instinctively, the brunette went for a knife in his pocket.

"That won't be necessary," the other man said, holding up his hands as if surrendering. "You're out numbered anyway."

"I've taken on twenty men just fine before…" the Soldier growled, he looked around, children and families were in the room, just now taking notice of what was happening. Their looks of shock and terror plagued the Soldier in a way he didn't know existed.

"Not here man…" the faux security guard said, walking forward, forcing the Soldier to start walking backward. He hit someone's chest. It was broad and toned. His body reacted in a way that caused a gasp to escape his mouth. A warming sensation, gentle at first but grew in intensity surged where his back had touched that strong chest. His fingers tingled and he felt the worst sensation of just wanting to…lean back. He forced himself away, ignoring how his body went cold as he whirled to see a blonde with an all-too-familiar face.

"I didn't want it to be like this," Captain America said. "I honestly thought you'd run further…"

The brunette felt his heart begin to slam into his rib cage. Each time it beat harder, faster; like it was trying to jump out of his chest and thrust itself into the hands of the blonde man. He felt his shoulders tense and his fingers start to tingle. It was like an itch he couldn't scratch. Like a drug addict with a fix he just couldn't get… He felt sick.

"Guess he ain't so smart," Roger's accomplice said crossing his arms over his chest, a smug look atop his features.

The brunette glared at the man, cursing in Russian under his breath as he tried to calm his unstable body.

"Yeah. Right. Whatever you say," the African American shot back.

"Look," Rogers said. "I won't force you to come with me. But…you have been here twelve times." There was a glint of hope in the captain's eyes. One the Soldier found to be rather…inspiring. His heart kept pounding. The Soldier could swear it was now climbing up his throat. "You ran from Hydra. You saved me. I want to help you, Bucky."

The Soldier felt his whole body shake and growled, only to keep from perhaps uttering something less dignified. What was this? It was like there was another being inside him doing its damned to rip apart from his mortal form and launch itself away. Each move, each breath and syllable Rogers uttered sent the Soldier's body into a desperate turmoil. It was terrifying, but he didn't want to run away from it. He needed to understand it. It was the only thing he had left…even if he didn't deserve it.

"That's not my name," he hissed, backing away from both of them. His eyes darted to the now empty room. Instead of anyone calling for help, people just avoid a situation entirely. Typical, disgusting human nature. Never wanting to get their hands dirty…yet they'd bleat and whine when they weren't safe. Hydra stood to defend them… To create peace and unity and free them from an existence of fear and disgusting behavioral patterns such as this.

"Okay, then what do you want to be called?" Rogers asked, taking a step forward, resulting in the Soldier taking two steps back. He couldn't chance Rogers getting closer. If he lost control completely…he was frightened with what would happen. "We're not kidnapping you. You don't have to keep up this dance you know."

"I don't know how to dance…" he offered softly. Talking to him, actually responding sent a shiver down the Soldier's spine, one that felt like a shot of narcotics right into the bloodstream. He wanted more, but feared the side effects.

"You used to be really good at it."

The brunette felt his cheeks heat up, his eyes started to sting and his throat clenched up. He couldn't take much more of this. He needed to either run or for this to not be so public. "I tried to kill you." Another group of students and families came into this section of the exhibit.

Rogers seemed to notice the crowd as well as he glanced around the room. "We can go somewhere else and talk this out? Grab coffee?"

The Soldier laughed, it was guttural and full of apprehension. But the way his body felt exposed the fat lie he was trying to feed himself. He wanted to go. Every inch of his body felt compelled to step forward, to just give in and stop fighting whatever magnetism that Rogers had over him. It'd be easier. "Eat pastries too?" he spat sarcastically.

"If you'd like." Rogers shrugged.

"That was a joke, Rogers," the brunette responded.

"I don't care that you tried to kill me. You weren't you. You still aren't you. But how can I not reasonably think that you don't want to know who you really are? You're here. You keep coming back here!"

The Soldier didn't have anything intelligent to respond with. Everything was true. He did want to know… But he feared knowing. With Hydra, he'd done some pretty gruesome things. He'd killed children, innocents, people who weren't even his targets. He'd set fires to buildings, not caring who was inside. Shot dogs and cats… This him and the him that Rogers knew weren't the same. They probably couldn't even stand to be in the same room together.

"Bucky. Just talk with us. You don't have to stay."

"Fine," he grumbled. Though once more he couldn't fool himself. His body rejoiced in the familiarity of the other's closeness. It sang out with low heated hums that pleasantly numbed his body as he followed those broad shoulders and that flawless jaw line…

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><p>They'd selected a café with outdoor seating. The Soldier didn't like it, but alas, here he was, sitting with Captain America and Wing-Guy; staring down his nose at a "mocha latte…" Not that he minded having an excuse to look distant or uninterested. He didn't want to look at Rogers. He didn't know how much more of these sensations he could take.<p>

"It's kind of sweet. Coffee has way improved since our day," Steve said, seemingly trying to break the silence.

Sam still had his arms crossed over his chest. He had a black coffee resting in front of him; though the Soldier was sure he had no intentions of drinking it. Perhaps he was just going to use it to burn the brunette's face if this went south…

"Bucky…" Steve said in a softer, more serious tone.

The brunette felt the shiver start low in his spine and followed the sensation as it climbed slowly up his spine till it washed over his shoulders like a lover longing for a lost love. Stormy-blue eyes locked with ocean-blues as the Soldier fought every fight or flight sense he had; Hydra programming included.

"You never told me what to call you, so I'm calling you what I've always called you," Steve said as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"I don't know what I'm doing…" "Bucky" finally blurted out. "I should be killing you. I should have killed you." He saw Sam straight up out the corner of his eye. "But I'm out…drinking some kind of "Froo-froo" drink with you."

"Well, you're just kind of staring at it. I haven't seen you take a sip yet," Steve countered with a crooked smile.

"Fine. You can call me Bucky." Bucky felt his heart flip. It made the world feel like it was spinning for a moment. The name felt foreign on his own tongue even though he'd read it countless times back at the museum.

"This is the most fucked up conversation I've ever witnessed," Sam interjected. "Ya'll aren't even on the same subjects till three sentences later…"

Bucky responded by rolling up his straw's wrapper and flicking it at Sam. The other gentleman simply raised his eyebrows in disbelief. "Wanna do that again?"

"Both of you. Gosh, it's like watching two-year-olds," Steve said as he quickly responded to Bucky grabbing a knife on the table.

Bucky released the knife, folding his arms over his chest and staring at Steve. High cheekbones, blonde hair, blue eyes, lightly tanned skin and no hint of stubble. Male perfection. Bucky wanted to hate him, but it was like the thought was a volatile virus that his body responded to by forcing his stomach to go cold and he blinked a few times, trying to settle how light-headed he'd suddenly felt.

"So I'm going to go back to the basics here," Steve said as he fingered the mouth of his latte cup gingerly. "Are we going our separate ways after we leave this café?"

Bucky felt his spine shiver once more, this time it was more desperate, like a child, afraid of the dark. "I haven't decided yet."

"Do you want to know who you were?" Steve shot back.

"I don't know yet."

"Am I still your mission?"

"Haven't figured it out yet." Bucky poked at his drink cup.

Sam snorted. "Jesus. You talk to all your guests like this?"

"Sam…" the captain warned, but there was still a gentle tone to his voice, however stern. "Do you support Hydra?"

"Maybe."

"Care to elaborate?"

"No."

"Why?" Steve asked, sitting back in his chair, taking a sip of his coffee.

"Because I don't want a reason to go back."

"So you don't support Hydra," Steve reasoned.

"I didn't say that," Bucky said, he pushed his latte cup back and forth between his fingers. Gloved hands in nearly eighty degree weather…

"So…you like their goals but not their means?"

"Yeah."

Steve nodded.

"How do you do that?" Bucky finally asked, cocking his head to the side, a few strands of hair falling into his eyes.

"Do what?"

"You know what I'm thinking." The idea was more comforting than it was unnerving.

"We're best friends. That's what we do," Steve responded, a small smile playing at his lips.

"But I can't do that to you."

"You haven't tried…" Steve teased. "Try me."

"I don't know where to begin."

"So, tell me why I want you to come with us."

Bucky knitted his brows together, focusing on Steve's face. He felt his heart run cold and his throat clench. What was he doing? He shouldn't even be here. He should never have seen that stupid museum exhibit. He should have pretended. He should have just gone back… He wouldn't have to face this sort of pain if he'd just gone back. "…You…want to prove to me that I'm not who I think I am. Show me I'm better than this, even though I think you're full of shit…but you still have hope for me."

Steve nodded, his smile widening. "Good job."

"We shouldn't stay out here much longer," Sam said looking around. "I've seen a couple black vans drive by…slowly."

Bucky instantly stood up, causing the other two to do the same. He knocked his coffee over, cursing in Russian, his heart racing. "I have tracking devices installed…"

"Seriously? You didn't think it was a good idea to tell us that earlier?" Sam said, incredulously.

"I have an idea… if you trust me," Steve said, his blue eyes shimmering with an open challenge, baiting Bucky to comply out of sheer curiosity.

"I certainly don't trust you…" Bucky said. "But what's your idea?"

Steve smiled, nodding in acceptance. "Come with us now. We can get those trackers out. I know a guy."

"You know a guy?" Sam asked, his eyes again scanning the roads.

"What do you say, Buck?" Steve asked, his face smug, like he already knew Bucky's answer. It infuriated Bucky…that this guy could be so self-assured to feel as if Bucky had no other choice. He wanted to say no. But the thought had made his fingers and toes go cold.

"Whatever, Captain Smart-Ass."


	2. Chapter 2

I know it was only 3 reviews, but I still wasn't expecting a single review when I posted this. I mainly write fanfiction when I just can't get something out of my head and thus I mostly write for myself, but I enjoy sharing my thoughts and I really enjoy seeing any joy and entertainment I can provide to others, so that was really nice! I hope you continue to like what I have to share. :)

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><p>They had gotten out of there just in time. Bucky got into the backseat of the red-haired woman's car, who he also attempted to kill before… He saw the men getting out of the black vans…they all quickly scurried back into the vans as they noticed the trio's departure.<p>

"Everybody buckle up," she said before throwing the car into gear and speeding out of the intersection. Bucky felt his head slam back into the plush seat at the ferocity of the car's engine.

"We've got three in pursuit," Sam said as he craned his neck to look out the back window.

"I'm aware," the woman said, stepping on the gas pedal once more. She completely ignored a red light and several oncoming cars. Bucky would have done the same though…

"So, Bucky is it?" she said, looking in her rear view mirror at the man. "Nice to finally see you without shoving bullets in my face." She banked the car hard to the left, swerving to avoid a semi truck.

"They're getting closer!" Sam shouted, his eyes widening with panic.

"Re-lax," she said. "I got this. Name's Natasha by the way."

"Apparently mine's Bucky," he retorted.

"Knew that already," she responded as she banked right, turning hard onto a back way street.

Bucky heard a loud crash behind them as several civilians collided head-on. One of the vans got stuck behind the collision. Still had to shake the other two though…

"Hydra knows I'm with you," he said, mainly speaking to Steve. "They're not going to stop till they get me back."

"Well I guess they're going to be disappointed," Steve said, looking at Bucky from the side mirror. "I don't plan on giving you back."

Bucky's heart fluttered and his stomach felt like it flipped. He couldn't help the smile that found its way onto his tired face. Steve Rogers…Captain America…was mesmerizing. A person wouldn't see it at first, as Bucky certainly hadn't. He saw a big oaf in a red, white and blue suit pretending to be better than everyone else. When that came off at the museum exhibit, Bucky saw a man with a compassionate, gentle heart, and overly-forgiving soul. It was almost painful. Embarrassment swelled in his throat as he thought back on the day in DC. How could Rogers just be so…casual about this? The Winter Soldier had tried to kill him and yet…there he was, tailing him into the museum, cornering him and suddenly taking him out for…coffee? What kind of person did that? _'One that cares about you…'_

He bit his tongue as the car lurched, gasping in pain as blood filled his mouth.

"Sorry! Bumpy ride!" Natasha said as she drove over a construction zone.

Bucky grimaced as he swallowed blood. He didn't have a mirror so he couldn't assess how deep he'd bit, but it felt pretty deep. He opened his mouth and blood dribbled out.

"Uh…this dude's bleeding back here," Sam said.

Steve instantly whirled around, his eyes rounding in concern.

"I bit my tongue," Bucky said through a gurgle of blood.

"Shit...that looks bad," Sam said.

"Natasha, do you have anything for this?" Steve asked.

"Glove compartment."

Steve rummaged around for anything that he could use. Bucky swallowed another gulp of blood. It made his stomach churn. Pain didn't bother him as much as the thought of swallowing his own blood and saliva…together. For some reason it just didn't sit right with him. He felt a wave of nausea wash over his stomach.

Steve turned back around with a small plastic cup, typically used for administering cough medicine. "Spit," he directed. Bucky spit into it. "Put this into your mouth." Bucky took the gauze and filled his mouth with it. He winced as the texture began getting moist and warm. "Can you go any faster than this, Natasha?" Steve said, craning his neck toward the driver as he took the blood filled cup from Bucky.

"What do you take me for? An old lady? Of course I can…we just don't have any open road!" She turned a hard left. "Someone needs to start shooting these guys."

"They haven't been shooting at us though," Sam said. His brown gaze locked on Bucky. "They want you alive."

Bucky nodded.

"Someone please start shooting!" Natasha exclaimed as she turned a hard right, swerving a bit.

Bucky grabbed the gun at Sam's thigh. He'd been in the museum, so it was a miracle he'd been able to take his blade in, but guns would have been instantly detected. He rolled down his window, ignoring the protesting Sam and started shooting. The gun felt calm in his hand. He felt calm. This was what he was good at. This was what he had been created to do… No confusing impulses that washed over him against his will, no familiar blonde men… Just him and a gun.

His head throbbed violently, like a resounding protest. He shook off the pain, trying to aim for the tires of the vans behind them. _Tsssssss_

He lost focus for a moment as the gauze in his mouth became utterly soaked with blood and saliva. He was honestly shocked at how revolted he was at this. He furrowed his brow, hardening himself and forcing the thought of gauze in his mouth just…congealing there away from his mind.

Sam came out the other window with a gun in hand. His aim wasn't as good, not at this speed and these spontaneous turns. Bucky could still see he was a good shot though.

_Tssssssss_

Another tire blown. The van swerved violently before crashing into the side of a building. Bucky and Sam pulled their torsos back into the car, both breathing heavily. Bucky started to cough, choking a bit on his own blood.

"We're almost there," Natasha said.

Steve turned around with fresh gauze and opened his hand to Bucky to spit the old out. Bucky hesitated. How was this man even real? Dedicated, loyal, trusting, compassionate, fierce, strong, capable… How did a man like Steve Rogers exist? Better yet, what did a man like Steve Rogers see in a man like The Winter Soldier?

Bucky spit the gauze out and was thankful for the fresh gauze that warmed in his mouth. He couldn't taste as much blood anymore. His platelets were finally clotting.

"Where we going?" Sam asked.

"Steve knows a guy, remember?" Natasha responded sarcastically, a lioness' smile on her face.

Bucky wasn't expecting a secret garage that suddenly enveloped the entire car. He wasn't expecting to feel like he was in a 2 ton casket with three other bodies. His fight or flight instincts and programming whirled to life, making him clench his fists tightly as he fought hard to control his breathing and the desire to punch everyone in the car to escape. They descended lower into the dark cavern. "Where are we?" he growled through clenched teeth.

"Stark Industries. We're going from here in a private jet. Stark knows you're with us," Natasha responded as she turned the car off and unbuckled. They were still moving. Didn't she have to park? Suddenly, two arms, a steal clamp attached to the car, Bucky's eyes widened but no one else seemed phased.

"Aren't you worried it's going to scratch the paint?"

"Stark designed it. It's not actually attached. It's all magnetic. No paint damage," she said lazily as she settled into her seat.

Bucky tried to relax in his seat but this reminded him too much of the chair… It was a dark, enclosed space with no power to move or run away. He was entirely at the mercy of someone else. Sure the chair wasn't exactly like that, but it felt pretty damn close. The feeling of being powerless was the most similar. He hated that.

The car was nestled into its spot, and the doors opened. Bucky lurched out; happy he had the ability to run if he wanted. Part of him did, till he saw Steve's goofy smile. He could tell how happy the other was that he decided to come with them, granted, he didn't really have a choice. He felt his feet run cold as he imagined declining Rogers. He would have clearly come anyway.

They walked to an elevator. Steve suddenly became a bit fidgety. "Something wrong, man?" Sam asked, his brow furrowing.

"Not a big fan of elevators anymore," Steve answered simply.

The elevator dinged as it arrived at their floor and they all piled in. Bucky jumped as they were greeted by an automated, female voice. "Welcome to Stark Industries. What floor please?" He had fallen back into Steve. Steve's sturdy arms came to catch him at the elbow. Bucky looked over his shoulder at a pair of concerned ocean blue eyes. Despite his better wishes, he gasped at the touch. Where Steve's hands had held him, he felt gentle waves of heat caressing him like a soft fire on a cold night. He recoiled instantly, moving to the other side of the elevator. He hoped he'd played it off convincingly enough, like he didn't trust Steve. Otherwise he'd have to face the shame of his body's betrayal.

"Penthouse," Natasha said, leaning against the elevator's wall.

The elevator moved quickly. Bucky didn't know they could move this fast… He held onto the railing a bit too tight, angered when he noticed Steve's smirk. "I'm not a fan of elevators either…" he said grumpily.

They arrived at the penthouse in practically no time at all due to the elevator's speed. The door dinged and the automated woman spoke once more, "Enjoy your day! Goodbye now."

They moved into the penthouse. Bucky checked each exit, looking at the wall-scale windows, noticing they were tinted; one way viewing. He looked to the kitchen, noting the placement of the knives. There were enough that if he needed to escape he'd just have to find a way to grab at them and throw them fast enough before anyone had a chance to react. He wouldn't make it, not with the reaction times of this group… He wasn't entirely sure about Natasha, but something was oddly, deeply familiar about her. He could have sworn he knew a little girl in Russia with red hair and sass…

"Welcome! I see Poppa Ice Cube and Baby Ice Cube! What a reunion," Stark called with his arms stretched out in welcome. He had a champagne glass in one hand and the bottle in the other. "Anyone care for a drink? Not you though." He pointed at Bucky. "I don't trust anyone who tries to shoot his best friend and then uses him for an escape route…"

Bucky growled, his fists clenching. He patted his pocket, feeling his blade, mostly for reassurance. Stark raised a brow, knowing full well what Bucky was doing.

"It's okay. They keep memory wiping him. If he had known he'd never have done that," Steve justified.

"That you know of," Bucky shot back.

Steve looked at him with what looked like, almost anger, though it was laced with shock and a bit of hurt. "Really?"

"I may have been swayed to the cause of Hydra and this is all just a lie."

"It's not. Stop being unreasonable," Natasha said as she took a champagne glass and allowed Stark to pour her a bubbling glass.

"And you know me so well?" Bucky challenged.

Natasha gestured a mock toast toward Bucky. "Actually, I do. I just didn't know _who_ you were when I met you. Thought you were just the same as me; an "asset."

"Wait, what?" Steve asked, his hands upturned toward the ceiling in confusion at his waist.

"So. Remember I said I…did some stuff for Russia? Red Room. He was part of it too. I just didn't know he was _your_ Bucky till you told me. He certainly didn't know back then either."

Bucky's mouth silently fell open. She had been part of Red Room? Why hadn't she said anything? "So that's why you seemed so…familiar."

"Memory wipes are a bitch, huh? They don't really wipe anything. But yet they do. But you know someone when you see them. You just don't entirely know why," she said taking a sip of her drink.

"Well, this has been most enlightening, but I really need to crack that arm open and disable its trackers and most likely dangerous fail safes that threaten all our lives. So. If you'd be a dear." Tony motioned to a work station in the corner, closer to the window.

Bucky looked to Steve, as if asking for approval. He watched Steve nod silently. He didn't need Steve's approval… He didn't need anyone's approval. Yet…he just asked for it… He rolled his eyes, as if that would help make his voluntary decision less of a voluntary and more involuntary.

He hesitated in front of the chair, garnishing flashbacks of his own…chair. "Relax. No memory wipes. It's not going to hurt."

"That you know of," Bucky countered.

"True… If I open that we could all explode. That may hurt. Sit." He pushed Bucky into the seat. Two wrist clamps came out of the chair. Bucky began to thrash, feeling like a cornered dog.

"They're precautionary! I have to be ready for any fail safe. They could have a neural implant that causes you to go crazy and kill anyone in the vicinity."

Bucky stopped. His breathing was heavy as he stared at Steve. He felt ashamed. How could he look at a man that had so much trust in him, and not know how to return that trust? There was a dedication that was unfounded; a loyalty that just didn't exist anymore. He was a monster now… Steve was a beacon of hope. Night and day. Good and evil. He looked away, feeling embarrassed, angry and pathetic all at the same time.

"Where's Legolas, Tash?" Tony asked as he bit down on a Philip's Head.

"Still on a mission I guess. Haven't heard from him in a few days."

Tony grunted in response. Bucky watched him work. Mostly entranced by his fingers. They were like excited puppies that just didn't know where to begin when faced with a juicy bone.

"Stark right?" Bucky said.

"Uh. Yeah," Tony replied as he took the Philip's Head out of his mouth and started with the star of Bucky's arm.

"I was supposed to kill you too," Bucky said. Granted, he didn't exactly say when or where… Despite wanting a reason to be angry or ashamed of something else, Bucky didn't want to reveal he had been the assassin that killed Tony's parents.

Tony slid his rolling chair down a bit, so he was next to Bucky's lap. The man tilted his head with a smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Look, I didn't think this speech needed to be given, but here. I'm going to say it. And I'm only saying it once. I hate you. I want you dead. You're a brat that doesn't even know why he's a brat because he's had a shitty life and do I partly feel sorry for you? Sure, maybe a bit, because you're the longest prisoner of war in history, but I think your contributory abetting constitutes some ground for an execution considering what you've done is at a federal level of espionage and assassination. You have continued to kill some of the _God damned_ _brightest_ minds in history and you sit there taunting it not because you really want to, but because you don't know how to behave any differently. I'll bet you hate yourself. I'll bet you look into mirrors and punch them or start crying. Hell perhaps both. But if you think I'm going to sit around and take your childish shit just because Soldier Boy over here is my friend, you've got another thing coming. I won't kill you. I won't even lay a finger on you. I'll find other ways to torture your twisted soul until it's practically in shambles and you jump off my roof. Got it?"

The room fell into a heavy silence. Tony huffed once and then scooted back up to the arm where he began working once more. Bucky blinked a few times, not sure where to look. Stark was….terrifyingly right. He'd said those words fully aware he'd affect the man in a negative way…just to get a rise out of him. Just to further perpetuate his monstrous identity. "Got it," he responded softly, his voice cracking.

Tony didn't respond. He didn't need to. He'd said his piece and nothing else needed to be evaluated. Steve on the other hand looked like he was fighting with what he was going to say but resulted in walking away toward a corner with Sam to speak in hushed whispers. Natasha was on her back, her legs flung over the armrests of the leather couch, swinging lazily. Bucky had never felt true embarrassment, perhaps a bit here and there when he did something a bit stupid out in the field (which he rarely did anything stupid), or with Steve recently, but now…it was a frozen, harrowing feeling that resided so deep down he wasn't sure if his stomach was on fire or ice cold. He could spontaneously combust and he'd be grateful for it…

"Shit," Stark said, flinging himself atop his rolling chair across the room toward a holo-computer. He pulled up a design of the arm; blue hues gently glowed and flashed green and red in some areas. "Houston, we have a problem…"

Everyone gathered around his holo-computer. Bucky leaned as forward as he could with shackled wrists.

"So, good news, I have deactivated most of the tracking devices. Bad news, if I deactivate the last one from here, and not a Hydra base, he gets one hell of a lethal injection right into the brain via this tube…" He pointed to the red flashing wire on the floating image. "Ripping the arm off isn't going to work either. It'll still trigger."

"So we have to go to a Hydra base to deactivate the last one?" Steve asked.

"And that's just tracking devices," Tony said, chewing on the butt of the Philip's head. "He's got a half dozen other fail safes in there I can't even begin to touch."

Steve ran his fingers tirelessly though his hair, running his fingers down his face, pulling the skin as he did so, making him look momentarily like an English Bulldog.

"I…don't like admitting this, but I need another brain."

"About time you realized that…" Natasha teased.

"We need Banner," Tony said, leaving Natasha's remark to be forever unanswered. "Honestly, we need Mr. Fantastic, and maybe even Parker. I don't want to be in the room when he blows up."

"So he has explosives in him?" Sam asked, looking back at Bucky like he was a ticking time bomb.

"Not…technically. He'll blow, but it won't be like a fire explosion. More of a ….gooey, squishy, organs-flinging around kind of explosion. Do you honestly think I'd let that get in my hair?" Tony ran his fingers gently through his dark hair, just for flair.

"So we call Banner," Steve said. "In the meantime, Sam, Natasha and I will go to a Hydra base and deactivate his last tracking device."

"Please don't bring Parker around, he's such a brat," Natasha said.

"It was a suggestion. Though I'd need someone…more or less as smart as me if Banner's dropped off the face of the world. Last time you found him in India. Where is he this time? Saving the world in Singapore?"

"Europe. He's in Edinburgh doing some research for the university," Natasha responded.

"How do you know everything?" Sam asked.

"It was published in a magazine," she retorted.

"So, it's great that you're all talking about me like I'm not here, I can't say I'm not used to it, but…this just means I should leave," Bucky said. "I'm not going to risk your lives for this."

"Wow. He has a heart. When did that happen?" Tony exclaimed sarcastically.

"Fuck you, Stark," Bucky responded. "Can I get out of these restrains now?"

Tony pressed a button on his watch and the restraints folded back into the chair. "You're very not welcome."

Bucky merely answered with a sneer.

"Bucky, that's not an option. We can handle this," Steve said.

Bucky felt his heart drop. He wanted to believe that. Truth be told, he wanted to stay. Every fiber of his being had only done one thing and one thing only…prove that somewhere deep down, he'd been a real man, with fears and dreams. "I can't ask you to do this for me. I still don't even know you."

"But you do know me, Bucky." Steve crossed the room, standing in front of Bucky, placing his large hands on each shoulder. The same gentle warming pulse erupted in Bucky's skin. He suppressed a moan, coughing instead. "I'm with you pal, till the end of the line. You said that to me once… and that's just how it's going to be."

Bucky didn't want to look into his eyes. He didn't want to see those big ocean blues full of optimism, loyalty and respect. He didn't want to see that jaw line with its perfect contours. He didn't want to see cheek bones worthy of a model. He wanted to crawl into a hole and hide in shame. How could someone so light be so loyal to someone so dark? "Just remember I didn't ask you to do this," Bucky responded.

Steve laughed, spinning away, his back straightening and his eyes hardening. "Natasha, you'll be in charge of deactivation. Sam, you and me will be a distraction. Stark, can you get a hold of Banner? Get him on one of your jets over here?"

"Yeah, no prob," Tony said, flicking open his cell phone and walking toward the kitchen section of the penthouse.

"We can do this, Bucky," Steve said, his teeth flashing in a goofy smile.

Bucky just pursed his lips, looking at the furthest corner of the room he could find. Damn, when Stark was right, he was right. Bucky did hate himself. He hated every moment he stood here, feeling once again like a burden, like a slave…but now it was even worse. He was a foolish slave… one that actually thought there was hope for a future.

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><p>See the joke I made? Did you?! I was proud of that joke... (Elevators, if you missed it, lol)<p> 


	3. Chapter 3

Not sure if this daily updating is going to last, but we'll see. Thank you for the reviews and favorites!

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><p>To say sitting across from Tony Stark in a room completely alone with him and a ticking clock was awkward, would be the most understated sentence in history. The ticking only made Bucky more painfully aware of the hatred the other had for him. Granted, Bucky hadn't started out on the right foot with the guy…on purpose…but this was almost torture.<p>

He sighed, laying his head on the table, his metal arm stretched out underneath it for support. Steve, Natasha and Sam had left for the Hydra base, or at least Bucky thought it was still a functioning Hydra base. He's the one who'd given them the coordinates. Most of them were being found and decommissioned by FBI, CIA and remnants of SHIELD. Though this was the last one Bucky knew of, and he prayed it was still functional enough for Natasha to deactivate the failsafe.

Bucky's gaze darted to a sound that penetrated the otherwise awkwardly silent room (aside from the ticking). He watched Tony begin tinkering with a small robot, or at least it looked like a robot. Upon really looking though, he noticed it was simply a helmet.

"What's that?" he asked.

"One of my helmets. I'm Iron Man, or did your frozen ass not know?" Tony retorted, not once looking up from the helmet.

"For Steve's sake, can we please just pretend to get along when he's back?"

That made Tony look up. He sported a look of disbelief, with one eyebrow raised high, empowered with judgement. "Why do you care? You've made it a point to remind him you don't know him. You nearly tore his face off, back in DC. Did you know that?"

Bucky looked at his feet, avoiding the memory that made his sternum go cold.

Tony just kept talking though, "Yeah, you slammed that metal hand into him about as hard as you could. He had stitches going up his lips like a crazed serial killer. It's a miracle he survived all that. If you look really close though, you can still see the scar."

"I pulled him out of the water," Bucky said, not caring if Tony was still on his high horse or not. "I didn't have to. I shouldn't have. I did."

Tony's "feathers" seemed to finally slim down, his shoulders relaxed a bit. "Well. Good. Cause you could have killed him."

Bucky allowed a small smile to grace his lips. Steve had good friends.

The moon had been high into the sky by the time Steve and company returned. They looked tired and Sam's cheek had a small cut but other than that, they all seemed okay.

"You don't have to worry about getting a big ol' injection into the brain now. It's disabled," Natasha said as she swayed into the room, flopping onto the couch. "Ugh…I really should go shower…"

Steve didn't hesitate once he entered the room; he came right up to Bucky, kneeling at the man's feet as Bucky sat at the table. "You doing okay?"

Bucky pretended to stretch to hide the shiver of elation he felt when Steve's gaze consumed him. It started in the nape of his neck and coiled down his spine. "Tired. But yeah."

"Come on, let's get you to bed," Steve said giving Bucky's knee a quick squeeze before standing up. Bucky almost gasped at the contact, before biting down on his already wounded tongue. He tasted blood, but it wasn't nearly as much as it had been in the car. "Any word from Banner?" Steve said, craning his neck toward Stark.

"Yeah. He'll be here in the next couple of hours," Tony responded. "He is _not_ thrilled about this, mind you."

"When is he ever thrilled about anything?" Natasha countered.

Tony responded with a laugh.

Bucky watched everyone in the room. It was like a room full of life-long friends. Everyone had their guard down, even with him here. There was no checking doors or windows, or that casual pat on the pocket just to make sure a knife was there. It was unheard of for him. His thoughts were interrupted as Steve motioned for him to follow.

The penthouse was much larger than Bucky had originally thought. Down the long hallway and to the right, Steve stopped and motioned for Bucky to come inside. It was dark, so Bucky could only make out an ornate dresser that looked like it had been from China many years ago and a large canopy bed.

"Steve…" Bucky said on impulse. He brought his flesh hand up to cover his mouth in shock.

Steve stood in the doorway, waiting for Bucky to continue.

"Never mind."

"Bucky…" Steve sighed. "You can tell me anything. I know you don't trust me, not anymore, but I've never betrayed any secrets you've ever told me. Like that girl you liked back in grade school. Emma Jean? I think?"

Bucky sat atop the bed, feeling how soft it was. He guessed the sheets were silk. It was a nice change from a cryo chamber. "She had…red hair?" Bucky said back. He hadn't realized what he said before the words reverberated in his ears. His eyes rounded. He'd…remembered. He'd remembered….

Steve walked into the room, sitting next to Bucky, their shoulders were touching. Bucky didn't move away, he merely bit his bottom lip and let the gentle warmth rush into him where Steve touched. "She did have red hair."

Bucky appreciated how casual this was. He was sure most who regained a memory would be more ecstatic, but not Bucky. It wasn't significant enough. It wasn't Steve or their life together. Just a flash of red, curly hair and pale skin. He couldn't even make out the eye color. "I don't want you to go," he said, his fits balling tighter. It was relief that washed over him, caressing whatever soul he had left. Giving in to these feelings, these emotions or whatever they were… it was easier than fighting them. But that frightened Bucky.

"I'm not going anywhere," Steve said back. Bucky could hear the smile in that sentence.

"I mean tonight. I think Stark'll kill me in my sleep." It was a small lie, but it was enough to cover his true reason. It felt…good. It just felt good to be around Steve. He was Bucky's single light in an otherwise cold and dark world. Bucky didn't know why, but he could _feel_ it.

"Okay. I'll sleep in here then."

Bucky pulled his knees up, tucking them under his chin. He wrapped his arms around them like a child would. "I don't know what I'm saying. You don't have to stay."

"Bucky…" The name was sharp; pointed and had a hint of affirmation. "I said I'd stay."

"That's not… Oh hell…" He let go of his legs, flipping his back against the bed roughly, feeling it bounce a bit. It felt like a cloud. He was afraid he'd just keep sinking. He didn't like that Steve was staying quiet. It made him have to do the talking. "Everything's just…so confusing."

"I know. But we can get through this together," Steve answered.

Bucky closed his eyes tightly. He heaved a heavy, worn out sigh. "You're so positive."

Steve laughed lightly into the dark room.

"I don't know how you do it."

"Optimism. A bit of dumb courage. We are the only ones in control of ourselves. We control how we react to situations. This is how I choose to react to mine."

"Do you think less of me? For reacting the way I do?" Bucky felt his stomach knot as the uncomfortable sensation of butterflies trickled its way in.

Steve was silent for a moment. It only made Bucky feel like he was going to puke. The thought of Steve disapproving anything terrified him. Why? He didn't know this man's favorite color, his favorite sport or his birthday. Why did a stranger matter so much? Why couldn't he shake these haunting feelings away? He felt so far away from the other man, even though they were barely inches away. He just had the strongest impulse to just…_touch_…

He let his metal hand dangle in the air. It was the only way to shake this desire away. He watched as the moon's soft beams reflected off the shiny material. He pretended he was anywhere but here…perhaps on the moon…

"There'd be no reason in Heaven or Hell why I'd ever think less of you. Even when you were shooting rockets at me, I still held you only in the highest esteem."

Bucky laughed, it was guttural and full of shame. "Why?" He dropped his arm to his side, hating that it hadn't accidentally touched Steve's thigh.

"Because you're Bucky Barnes. You're the guy who chased all the bigger kids away from me when I was down. The guy who came over and pushed the couch cushions into a fort when I didn't want to sleep alone. You're the guy who saved my life more times than I could count. I had asthma before. You helped me breathe."

Bucky sat in silence, admiring a man he should be, but wasn't. "I wanna be that guy," he said, for once not hiding his true thoughts. "I just don't know how."

"Rome wasn't build in a day. Why should this be any different?" Steve countered.

"Because I'm not a city?" Bucky joked, feeling a crooked smile tease at his lips. This felt so familiar. Like he had sat in a dark room with Steve countless times before, just goofing off and talking about nonsense. So familiar…

Steve laughed, nodding in acceptance. "Yeah well… All good things come to those who can wait."

Waiting? Bucky didn't want to wait. He wanted everything now so these feelings would just stop, or perhaps just start to make sense? He'd feel more comfortable if he just understood why he felt the way he did. "I don't have any memories of you," he said, staring up at the canopy. "But I get these feelings. I know I know you. It's hard to explain."

Steve remained quiet. Damn.

Bucky swallowed, trying to find the right words without sounding too…odd. "I just want you around. So when I feel like I know you, maybe it'll be because one day…I'll actually know you. If that makes any damn sense."

"It does. So…I'm sleeping in here tonight." He playfully punched Bucky on the cheek, lightly of course, barely enough to push the skin in, but it was enough to set Bucky's face aflame with warm, gentle familiarity. He closed his eyes slowly, enjoying the sensation. "I'll be back. Need to shower first. Hopefully Natasha's finished in there…" Steve looked at the open door to the gently lit hallway. Bucky assumed he was mulling over the probability of Natasha actually being finished with the bathroom. "Try to get some sleep, okay?"

"Where'll you sleep? In here, I mean," Bucky asked softly, angered by how vulnerable he sounded. He was the damned Winter Soldier. He shouldn't sound so insecure.

"Where do you want me to?"

Steve was letting Bucky call all the shots, and Bucky _hated_ that. All he could remember was following orders and directives. Actually being the one calling the shots...did not sit well with his mind. He didn't want to sound so forward, but he just felt that he needed Steve close. The closer the better. Bucky wanted Steve to sleep in the bed. Perhaps he could even find a way to just brush his toes against the other man's, but that was so forward! Not to mention Steve had made it so clear that they were always friends back then. But why did Bucky feel something so much stronger? What had been going on in his mind all those years ago that Steve was ignorant to? Was there more? Or was this what friends experienced? What was right?

"I don't care," Bucky said, cursing himself inwardly as he rolled over, moving away from Steve. His heart clenched. Why did he have to be so distant? He'd been so good up till this point.

Steve nodded. "Okay, I'll bring in an air mattress then. Sleep!" He jumped up from the bed and strode out of the room.

Bucky kicked his shoes off, feeling foolish. But he was too tired to have any inner monologues with himself. He slid out of his clothes, remaining in his boxer briefs and pushed the clothes into a pile on the floor. He'd picked them up at a thrift store anyway. It wasn't like he was exactly thrilled with them. They'd served their purpose. He'd have to ask for more clothes though. He hadn't had much money on him. Just some that'd been given to him by a sympathetic scientist who'd asked him to buy something that provided him happiness. He'd never used it… till now.

He settled between the covers and forced his eyes closed. He didn't want to deal with this shit any longer.


	4. Chapter 4

Sorry this took so long! Warning: Not proof read. Expect weird sentences...probably. XD

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><p>Bucky rolled onto his other side, looking out the window at the moon, wondering what it was called when a moon was almost at its full, but still had a small bit hiding in the shadows. He had never paid any attention in 4th grade science class. He shot up, his heart racing as he realized what he'd just experienced. He could see the brown desks with the black chairs. He could see the green chalkboards and the blurry outline of a female teacher. He started to laugh. Elation filling his lunges, making it feel as if he were going to fly away. He heard a grumbling sound from the floor. Painfully, he allowed the memory to slip from his mind as he looked down at a blonde man rubbing at his back as if it were in pain.<p>

"You okay, Bucky?" Steve asked groggily, stretching.

"I never paid any attention in 4th grade science class…" he said, smiling into the moonlit room.

Steve quickly jumped to his feet, staring intently at Bucky. "You remember 4th grade science class?"

Bucky laughed again. "A little! But I can see it! Jesus, Steve!" He jumped from the bed, his body moving faster than his mind. It wasn't till he felt his skin come in contact with the other man's that he realized what his body was doing. He'd clung to Steve in a tight embrace, his nose just barely centimeters from Steve's neck. He could smell the other's aftershave; Crisp, a light scent of musk but mostly sweet.

He pulled away quickly, feeling his cheeks flush. His body protested, feeling ice cold. He suppressed a shudder. "I- I'm sorry," he stuttered.

"No…" Steve said softly, wrapping his arms around his friend's shoulders. "This is great, you have nothing to apologize for."

Bucky felt his skin ignite with that now-familiar sensation whenever he accidently bumped into Steve. He also felt as if a swarm of butterflies were franticly attempting escape from within his stomach. He wrapped his arms around Steve's middle. Resting his head against the other's shoulder. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to ever move. There was something within him that felt as if it were about to escape, to claw and gasp its way out, desperate to finally be revealed but Bucky didn't understand entirely what it was.

Steve pulled away first. Bucky whimpered impulsively, but he attempted to cover it with a cough. "You alright there?" Steve asked, giving his friend a gently smack of affection on the shoulder.

"Yeah, just a little… I don't know. My head's spinning."

"Lie back down. This is probably a lot to take in." He pulled the covers back for Bucky to get back into bed.

Bucky climbed back into the bed, scooting further to the wall away from the window. "The floor looks really uncomfortable…" It felt like he was about to puke up his heart.

"Oh nah, don't worry about it," Steve said waving a hand dismissively. "Stark's got expensive carpet."

"Well, I mean…" A wave of nausea hit Bucky like a freight train. He felt sweat begin to cling to his forehead.

"Hey…Bucky!" Steve crawled over the bed, sitting atop his legs as he put the back of his head against Bucky's forehead. "You're burning up."

"I don't feel so good," Bucky responded, clutching his stomach.

"Lemme get you a cold rag. I'll be right back!" Steve jumped off the bed, Captain America style and disappeared from view. Bucky coughed, feeling his body start to get its bearings once more. He slid under the covers, pulling them over his head and closing his eyes. It was Steve… Steve made him feel …all this. What was all this though? Why was it happening? It was practically unbearable. Every time Steve looked at him, brushed up against him, spoke to him…anything! It just gets worse and worse. But of course this didn't deter Bucky. It was like a drug, and he was utterly addicted. He craved Steve's presence like an alcoholic craved a beer at ten in the morning. It was an itch he just couldn't scratch, but he wanted to keep trying.

Bucky heard footsteps. He pushed the covers down to his bellybutton and felt another wave of nausea wash over him. He clutched his stomach and groaned. "Oh jeeze, Buck. You look terrible." He gently brought the wet, cold cloth against Bucky's forehead, patting him gently.

"Steve," Bucky gasped as his stomach flipped.

"M-maybe I should get Stark…" Steve said as he kneeled next to the bed, now patting down Bucky's neck with the cloth. "This could be a failsafe triggering."

"It's not," Bucky whispered, knowing if he tried to speak normally he'd just moan. With each soft, careful stroke from the damp cloth, Bucky's body responded with desire, with a pain that could only be fixed by the continuous touch of the other. "That's not it."

Steve brought the cloth back up to Bucky's forehead and placed it there gently, leaning against the bed as he kneeled, resting his arms atop the bed to stable himself. "Then what is it? Have you gotten enough fluids? Are you hungry?"

"Stop, please." Bucky closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. It helped him begin to calm down. It felt like the hairs on his arm closest to Steve were all standing on end, reaching out to Steve. "I didn't want to say anything…"

"Bucky, you can tell me anything," Steve said, blissfully unaware of the pain his "best friend" was enduring. It almost made Bucky angry, except he knew it'd be foolish to be angry with someone who had no idea on what was truly going on.

Silence filled the room as Bucky finally was able to get his body's feelings under control. He sighed in relief, letting his head sink a bit into the pillow. "I…" He felt his heart barely flutter, but it was enough to send him cowering at revealing the truth. It was all too much. What if this only got worse? What if being around Steve would just make this happen more and more, and at a greater cost? What if this was a failsafe… Maybe being around Captain America triggered something in the Winter Soldier programming that caused it to make him sick. Captain America had been his mission, his target…not his friend.

"I get panic attacks," Bucky lied. He still kept his eyes closed, so he didn't know if Steve was believing it or not. "When I'm out of cryo for too long, they just happen. Sorry."

He felt Steve lean away from the bed. His heart lurched up into his throat for a moment, but settled back in his chest.

"So…you're good now?" Steve asked, awkwardly. Bucky was sure Steve wasn't buying it from that tone, but he knew the blonde wouldn't push it.

"Yeah." Bucky turned away from Steve, curling up and pushing his face into his knees. He wanted to cry. God, when was the last time he truly cried? He couldn't remember. All he could see was just a blurry 4th grade teacher in front of a green chalk board…

He'd never paid attention to 4th grade science class…

When Bucky woke, he was alone. The door to the hallway was left slightly ajar. He sat up, looking over to where Steve had slept all night. On the floor was a crumpled blanket and a single, white pillow. Bucky felt a small pang of guilt for making Steve sleep on the floor. He swung his fleet over the bed, curling his toes into the plush carpet. It was a nice, thick carpet, but it wasn't like sleeping on a bed. He stood up, listening to his joints pop a bit as he walked around the bed and over to the window. He looked outside the large Stark Tower at the busy city below. All these people had no idea how close the bad guys truly got. They blissfully went about their day in happy ignorance. Bucky envied them. He'd been like that one right? Blissful and unaware of the tragedies of the world. It seemed like a nice life.

He was about to walk out the door when he realized he was only in his boxer briefs. He turned around, his gaze scanning the room to find jeans and a blue sweater folded neatly on the ornate dresser. Steve must have laid this out. Bucky quickly jumped into the clothing and made his way to the muffled sounds of conversation back in the largest part of the penthouse.

The room quieted when he came into view. "Talking about me I see."

Tony was leaning on the granite counter tops in the kitchen with a coffee mug that read "World's Best Scientist" on it. Bucky wanted to roll his eyes at that, but refrained. "Bucky, meet Dr. Bruce Banner."

A man with black hair and a dangerous look in his eye walked up to Bucky, with a hand stretched out. Bucky reached out with his metal hand.

"You shake with your left hand?" Banner asked.

"Only with guys like you," Bucky shot back.

"Bucky," Steve reprimanded. Bucky felt like a child being scolded by his mother. What made it worse was that he wanted Steve's approval, so he switched hands. Banner ignored the taunt and shook firmly, popping one of Bucky's knuckles.

"I hear you've got some techno gizmos that Stark here is too afraid to touch."

"I needed help. I didn't say I was afraid to touch them."

"Uh-huh," Banner responded. There was a mutual awe and respect that even Bucky could see between the two. "You should eat breakfast. It's going to be a long day for you," Banner said before walking away, going for another cup of coffee.

Bucky chewed on his bottom lip. He was afraid that if he ate, he'd just puke it out later, mostly fearing another episode like last night. Nevertheless, he walked over to the kitchen, feeling like a lost puppy. He was sure he couldn't just rummage through the cabinets, but no one was really offering anything…

"What can I get you, Mr. Barnes?" a male computer's voice asked. Bucky flinched, looking around for the source, but finding none.

"Did I not introduce you to Jarvis?" Tony asked as he sipped his coffee. "He makes a mean Eggs Benedict."

"I'll just have cereal," Bucky said, sitting at the kitchen island on a bar stool. Steve came to sit next to him. He could feel his skin tingle at their close proximity. He wanted to lean in so badly… But…what if it was a failsafe? After last night, he just couldn't be sure anymore. Maybe he'd ask Dr. Banner. "I'm sorry you slept on the floor," he mumbled softly.

"Don't worry about it. I've slept on a lot worse," Steve responded, playfully bumping his shoulder into Bucky's. Bucky gasped. "Hey, you okay?" Steve furrowed his brow, staring intently at Bucky's face.

"I-it's nothing." He could tell that Steve wasn't buying it, but the Captain let it go for now as a bowl of cereal appeared in front of Bucky.

"I'll have what he's having," Steve said to Jarvis.

"Certainly, Captain," the English AI responded.

They ate in silence, mostly listening to other people's conversations. Natasha was preparing to head out to look for the one they called Hawkeye on the basis that he hadn't checked in for a long time. Sam had wanted to help her, but she'd declined, saying it was something she had to do alone. Tony and Dr. Banner mostly picked each other's brains about science stuff that Bucky couldn't begin to possibly comprehend. The mention of a guy named Thor popped up a few times, but Bucky had no idea who the fuck that was or why they were all using booming voices with horrible fake English accents whenever they quoted him.

"You finished?" Steve asked.

Bucky looked down at his half eaten cereal bowl. The remaining flakes were soggy and at this point, rather like eating hay. "Yeah."

Steve took the bowls to the sink where he began washing them. "Uh, you know I've got a robot that can do that," Stark said over Steve's shoulder.

"I like doing this. Clears my head."

"You mean it's not clear already? I thought you just had a head full of air," Tony teased. They shared a soft laugh before Tony dropped the conversation and headed down the hallway. "Bucky?"

Bucky stood up, feeling a bit nervous. "Failsafe time?"

"Failsafe time," Dr. Banner answered. He placed a firm hand between Bucky's shoulder blades as he led the Soldier down the hallway.

Bucky looked back at Steve. His friend merely offered a light smile. That did nothing to stifle Bucky's agitated nerves.

They walked back into a room that was cluttered with mostly Iron Man parts and a surgical table. Bucky wanted to turn around, but when he'd slow his paces, Dr. Banner's hand would force him forward. The guy was stronger than he looked!

"Take a seat on that," Dr. Banner said as he pointed to the surgical table.

"Is it going to ensnare me like the other one?" Bucky asked, mainly directing the question to Tony.

"No. Bruce insists on that not being part of this."

Bucky smiled.

"Let's just say I have personal experience with feeling like a monster. You're not a monster," Dr. Banner said as he sat atop a rolling chair and rolled over in front of Bucky. There was something oddly trustworthy about Banner. But something was also a tad…off? It was like he was walking on eggshells, but he seemed rather content to always be doing so? Bucky liked him more than Stark, that was for sure.

"We're going to start with the basics. Temperate, blood pressure, and a series of questions. From this point on, there is a patient-doctor confidentiality. So please don't hide anything from me," Banner listed off as he put on his stethoscope.

"What about him?" Bucky jerked his head in Tony's direction.

"He's my nurse. He's also sworn to secrecy."

"Oh I'm your nurse now? Is that the little fantasy you've cooked in that head of yours?" Tony retorted as he put white, latex gloves on.

"Cute right?" Banner responded. "Take your shirt off please."

Bucky did as instructed, and was greeted with the cool bite of the stethoscope.

"Breathe in please… hold it…now out. Again please."

Being around Dr. Banner was oddly calming. Bucky was so used to his nerves constantly feeling like they were on fire that the pleasant feeling of nothing but the soft coolness of metal atop his chest and the rubber fingers against his back to straighten out his spine was refreshing. He didn't mind a boring doctor's checkup.

"You've got good lungs for an old guy," Dr. Banner teased. Now hold out your right arm. I'm going to take your blood pressure."

Stark handed Banner an arm sleeve. "You know I could have Jarvis do a full reading right? Get all his vitals in less than a few seconds?"

"That's not how you build trust between a patient and a doctor though, Stark," Banner said as he slid the cuff on Bucky's arm. "Besides, he should remember this from before."

"Before?" Bucky asked, squinting as the cuff began to squeeze.

"From before you were declared MIA. Before HYDRA found you."

"I don't remember much."

"You will." Banner sounded so sure of it. It was comforting to have someone who seemed so knowledgeable so confident in Bucky. "120 over 90. You've got some hypertension. We should watch his sodium and get him some blood pressure medication."

Stark jotted down the directions.

"Okay," Banner said as he pushed off the tile floor with his feet, sliding over to a table not far from Bucky. He picked up a thermometer and slid back over. "Put this under your tongue and hold it."

"What are we? Three?" Stark asked sarcastically.

"Again, this is how you establish patient-doctor relationships. While your tech is efficient and highly accurate, that's not the entire point here."

"I like the compliment you put in there. Well done."

"Only for you, Stark."

Bucky could see these two were great friends. They challenged each other in brains, but it was all friendly competition. Their banter was casual, almost flirtatious. Bucky put the thermometer under his tongue, disliking its pressure at such a sensitive junction in his mouth, but he withstood it.

"Ninety-nine. You run hot. Not unexpected. I do too."

Bucky cocked an eyebrow.

"You've no idea what I am do you?" Banner asked, an amused grin on his face.

Bucky didn't think his left brow could go up any higher as he waited for an explanation.

"Ever hear of The Hulk?" Stark said from his perch atop a workbench. He was fiddling with a gauntlet now instead of taking notes, though the notepad was still there at his side. "Big green guy who smashes stuff and don't care? That's him." He nodded his head in Banner's direction.

"No. I've never heard of The Hulk. Sorry."

Banner laughed, it was almost like a sigh of relief, which confused Bucky. "That's fine by me. The big guy isn't exactly my favorite part of me anyway. I was researching super soldier serum. Add a pinch of gamma radiation and bam. Me."

Bucky nodded. "You don't like it?"

"No. But it serves a purpose. Saved New York from an alien invasion awhile back. You heard of that right?"

"No. I was given HYDRA intel only if they needed me to know something. Guess they didn't need me to know that."

"Youtube it. It's pretty interesting now looking back," Banner said as he placed the thermometer back on the table and then slid back to Bucky.

"What's a Youtube?" Bucky asked.

"They're like cats, those guys. You unfreeze one and suddenly they all start coming around!" Stark joked.

Banner allowed a small, worn smile onto his features, but it didn't reach his eyes. Bucky understood him a bit better now. That's why his eyes had looked so dangerous. There was a darkness within that he had to constantly control, lest it be unleashed. Bucky could relate.

"Question time. How old were you when you were taken captive?" Banner rested one leg over the other, balancing his ankle atop his knee as he shook it like someone with restless leg syndrome.

"Twenty-eight."

"Do you know how you were created?"

"Experimentation."

"Elaborate?"

Bucky shrugged. "I don't know. Given a metal arm. Pumped with drugs. Cryo freezes. It's a huge blur for me. I just know my missions."

"Missions as The Winter Soldier?"

"Yeah."

"Do you have any memory from before you were captured?"

"Sort of. It's all starting to come back to me, but really slow. I remember a girl named Emma Jean and my 4th grade classroom. Everything else is sort of like…" Bucky scrunched up his face as he searched for a word. "Like a murky haze. I know I know something, or I know I remember something. I just can't…access it. It's more feelings of something familiar."

"Does Rogers trigger any of that?"

It was an innocent question, but from Bucky's panic-stricken expression it was almost as if Banner asked if he'd drown any puppies lately. Bucky felt his whole body tense up, like someone was pumping him with a paralysis drug. Banner raised his brows, waiting, but not entirely patiently.

"A-a little," Bucky whispered. He felt betrayed by his vocal chords as they slunk into the dark depths of his throat.

"Care to explain?" Banner asked casually.

Bucky looked to Stark. He knew he could trust Dr. Banner, but he wasn't entirely sure about Tony. "I'd rather just tell you, not him."

Tony looked like he'd just been backhanded by some cheap one-nightstand. "I'm a very trustworthy person!"

"Tony…" Banner said through a sigh. "Just go outside for a minute?"

"It's because I said I hated you isn't it?"

Bucky smirked. It was amusing how offended Stark was, yet he'd laid his feelings on Bucky heavily. He was such a child.

"Stark!" Banner hissed. "Out."

"Fine, fine. I can see when I'm not wanted. I'll just be right beside the door… twiddling my fingers." Tony slunk out of the room, his hands shoved into his pockets and his shoulders slumped.

Banner turned back to Bucky. He had a tired, half smile on his face. "Charming fellow isn't he?"

"I think I'm growing on him…" Bucky said lightly. There was a comfortable moment of silence between the two, enough for Bucky to shift his body so he was sitting cross legged on the operation table. It wasn't the most comfortable thing. "Steve…" Bucky breathed out. He wanted to talk about this with someone. Banner seemed like the best option because he vowed himself to secrecy. Doctors took that kind of thing seriously. "Steve helps me remember. It's all slow. Mostly I just get flashes of images but…I get these feelings too."

Banner's head perked.

"At first it was like…the hairs on my skin would spike toward him, like I was a magnet." Bucky felt his toes go cold. He wrapped his flesh hand atop them to try to warm them up. "It just got worse."

"Worse as in, painful?"

"No. More desperate. Each time he bumps into me, my skin goes hot. I spend most of my day wanting him to look at me, or talk to me."

"Perhaps you're body remembers what your mind's forgotten. He was your best friend. Maybe it's trying to cling to that familiarity?"

Bucky pursed his lips. "I don't think that's all…" He felt ashamed. "I get these…impulses. Like last night when we were in the bedroom talking, I just wanted…" He felt his throat clench. He closed his eyes, trying to center himself. He felt like he was going to throw up. "I'm afraid."

Banner nodded silently. He set the pen down, not having wrote any of this down. "Has Steve talked to you about the life you two shared?"

"Not really. Nothing in detail."

"So you don't know the relationship you had with him? Other than what he's said to you?"

"Correct."

Banner rolled his lips. "When you're out of cryo, do you feel…attracted to any of the men around you? Or women?"

Bucky stared blankly at Banner. He wanted to lash out, to scream at him and tell him how insulting that was, but it was now all coming together. He felt these things because his body remembered Steve in a way Bucky's mind couldn't. Muscle memory was always the last thing to go. "I got tossed around like a cheap date. Didn't matter the gender. I hated them all equally when they did that to me."

Banner squinted, like it was painful for him to hear. _Try living it then,_ Bucky thought. Banner smoothed out his lab coat over his chest before looking up to Bucky. "I think you need to talk to Steve."

"Really Doc? That's your diagnosis?" Bucky spat. He couldn't talk to Steve about this. Steve had never talked to him about it! Therefore, nothing like this had happened in the past. It was all Bucky… Bucky had felt this way all along, and he'd never said a thing to Steve about it. He almost felt sorry for his past self, except he was now the schmuck living it.

"I'm not saying go up to him and blurt it all out, but…ask him small questions. Start asking him what you two used to do for fun. What your favorite food was. Get him to start opening up about your past. Maybe you'll remember faster _and_ get a hold of these impulses you're experiencing."

Bucky felt his eyes sting as tears welled up in the corners. He closed his eyes, feeling his uneven breaths, his cold toes and his conflicted emotions. He wanted to talk to Steve, because he simply wanted to talk to Steve. He was his only friend, his only lifeline to a past long ago; a life. But he also wanted to talk to Steve to see those sparkling ocean blues and those smooth lips…

His eyes snapped open as he punched in frustration into the cold metal table he sat upon. He felt his metal arm go through the surface.

Banner stood up, his hands in front of him in defense. Stark came through the door quickly, his eyes round in shock. "The fuck?" he said.

"We just took a bit of a not so fun trip down memory lane. All's good. Right, Bucky?"

He was breathing heavily. He could see his chest rising and falling. He pulled his arm out of the table, hopping down to the floor. "Yeah. We're good."

Tony hesitated for a moment, but Banner's pleading expression calmed him down. Bucky watched the man's chest unfurl. "You're lucky I'm rich or I'd make you pay for that." It was meant as a joke, but no one laughed, not even Stark.

"I guess I'm not the only one who gets watched like a glass cannon," Banner said, standing up and removing the stethoscope from around his neck. "We'll some CT scans and some MRI's later. Go calm down for now."

Bucky walked out of the room, shoving passed Stark. He wasn't angry at them. In fact, he was beginning to enjoy Stark's humor and his silly behavior. He'd always found Dr. Banner instantly likable. He was angry at himself. Angry that he'd been feeling these intense emotions and these strong desires to reach out, to touch and being so confused as to why. It was staring at him right down his face, dead in front and he didn't have a clue. Well now he did…

And he hated it.


	5. Chapter 5

Sorry it took so long! Just wasn't feeling it, but I'm back into the feeling!

* * *

><p>Bucky sat on the L-shaped sectional, his knees tucked under his chin and his arms wrapped around his legs. He followed Steve's move with a lazy gaze, one mixed with hope and fear. Steve had been talking to Stark for the most part, but then he'd received a phone call that sent him pacing back and forth. He'd raise his voice, but it wasn't in anger, more like it was in a passion. Something about Natasha and that Clint guy the group kept talking about. His brow was furrowed which made him look older, but not necessarily in years, just in wisdom. Bucky turned away, feeling a mixture of wanting to be Steve's focus and being angry that he wanted to be Steve's focus.<p>

Was it even okay? Sure he'd been had by men back with HYDRA, but it wasn't romantic…just sex. Was this forbidden? Accepted? He tried to remember anything, any small piece that would help trigger his memory about these feelings. He chewed on his bottom lip, frustrated that nothing came to him; Just an empty darkness that gave him no hope.

"Hey, you okay?" Steve's voice shattered Bucky's concentration. He looked up, a few strands of his brown hair falling into his eyes.

"Oh uh…just tired."

"Well get un-tired. We've got to crack open that arm again and disarm the rest of your fail-safes before we can head to any of my safehouses," Tony said, picking up a screw driver and tossing it between his hands.

"I thought we were going to your house?" Steve asked.

"You honestly think I'd let HYDRA's prize pony walk right into my living room?" Tony shot back.

Steve gritted his teeth, but he didn't say anything else.

Bucky stood up, heaving a heavy sigh and walked back down the long hallway. Staring at Steve wasn't the best option right now anyway. All it did was make him pissed off. "Where you going?" Steve asked.

"For a nap. Stark's orders."

Bucky knew he was being followed though. At the end of the hall he took a swing. His metal arm crashed into the wall, the drywall gave way, leaving a nice hole into the other bedroom. Steve raised his brows in disbelief.

"Bucky…what on Earth is going on with you?"

He winced, feeling guilty about his moment of weakness. "I just…I can't take this." He walked into the bedroom, feeling cornered, which made him feel foolish as he'd walked right into here of his own accord.

"Can't take what, Buck? You can talk to me."

"No I can't!" Bucky yelled. He bit his lower lip, running his fingers through his hair. "I don't know shit about you! I don't know shit about me! You're some guy who runs around in tights saving the world and I'm just…" His voice broke. He sat heavily on the bed, closing his eyes as he tried to center himself. "I don't even know your favorite food, or color. I don't know your favorite sports team. I don't know your first pet's name. I know nothing."

Steve sat down next to him. It was too close… their shoulders were touching. Bucky wanted to lean in. He stifled a whimper as he moved further away from Steve.

"Favorite food? Apple pie. Favorite color? Probably a tie between blue and red. Favorite sports team? The Yankees. My first dog was named Lucky."

Bucky laughed. "What were mine?"

Steve adjusted himself on the bed, turning in to face Bucky more. "You always did appreciate a good hot dog. You weren't too keen on sweets."

"Steve…" Bucky whispered; his gaze cast to his shoes "Tell me a story…about me."

Steve laughed. "You would have probably said that even if you remembered your life. You were always a tad self-centered."

"Hey!"

"A good self-centered!"

Steve's smile was relaxing. Bucky could feel his heart begin to steady. Bucky moved further up the bed, his back against the headboard. He looked up at the decorative canopy. Stark did love his flair. "I just need to know who I was."

"Who you are," Steve corrected. He scooted up the bed, placing his hand on Bucky's shoulder. Bucky winced, like the touch was painful. "You're still Bucky Barnes. One day you're going to wake up and remember everything and this will all be behind you."

Bucky's lips twitched in turmoil. He wanted to lash out. He wanted to tell Steve how wrong he was, and that he'd never be the same Bucky Barnes ever again. On the other hand, he understood what his friend was saying. He'd know everything of who he was…thus all this turmoil would be forgotten. He'd get all the answers he wanted to know and even the answers to the ones he did not want.

"Any story," Bucky said trying to remove Steve's heavy gaze from Bucky's face.

Steve leaned back, removing his hand from Bucky's shoulder. He pursed his lips in thought, thinking back on days Bucky couldn't. "Okay. Back in high school. You were this smart, handsome jock and I was the benchwarmer. I wanted to play baseball so badly but the coach wouldn't dream of putting an asthmatic on the team. I was pretty upset, naturally. One weekend you took me to a ballpark. You'd arranged a lot of the guys from the team to be there and you all let me play ball with you. I never got to first base, but I didn't care. You made me feel included. A habit you kept throughout our friendship. When I became Captain America, you even said you didn't want to follow the man in the stars and stripes. You wanted to follow the little guy from Brooklyn. You never abandoned me, no matter how reckless and stupid I was. I'll never forget when I was up to the plate, staring down your pitcher as he threw. I hit a really lousy hit, but you were cheering the loudest."

Bucky didn't say anything. Of course he'd cheered the loudest. If what Banner theorized was correct, Bucky had feelings much deeper for Steve than friendship for years. He was astonished that Steve had never seen them. Or had he? Had they been ignored? Rejected? Bucky had no idea.

"I guess that's what best friends do, huh?" Bucky responded after the silence. "Sounds like I followed you around like a puppy."

Steve laughed. "No. I clung to you like glue in high school. Not many of the other kids liked me. I was mostly shoved into lockers and garbage bins."

"I'm going to go find Stark," Bucky said, abruptly changing the subject. Steve even furrowed his brow in confusion. "Thanks for the trip down memory lane."

Steve sat on the bed awhile longer, but Bucky was already out of the room. He was greeted abruptly by Stark's displeased face. "You broke my wall."

"It got in my way," Bucky countered.

Tony raised his brow, provoking Bucky to continue this, but Bucky deflected. "I'm ready to get HYDRA's shit out of me."

"Cool."

Bucky really was starting to like Stark. They had a mutual understanding, one that required no explanation or really any words. It was refreshing…

* * *

><p>Bucky lay on his back, his eyes staring up at the pale-white overhead light. He'd occasionally look away to have a large dot blocking his vision. He'd wait for it to dissipate and then would repeat process. He could feel Tony and Dr. Banner move his arm one way, unscrew something here and there. He could hear the hissing and popping sounds as they continued to rewire, remove and replace. It didn't hurt. It was just boring. He looked back up at the white light, scratching his nose with his other hand.<p>

"Wanna tell me why you slammed a whole in Stark's wall?" Bruce Banner asked as he hooked up a computer to a chip in Bucky's arm.

"I didn't want to be followed."

"If you had any money…I'd make you pay for that," Tony said. "But you don't…and I'm a billionaire so here we are."

Banner merely rolled his eyes playfully at Stark's remark. "It was Rogers though," Banner pressed. "You knew that."

"I had my back to him."

"You're trained. You knew who was following you," Banner said back.

Bucky liked how ballsy Banner was. "I just needed a minute to think about what you told me."

"Did you ever get that minute?" Banner closed the laptop, unplugging it from Bucky's arm and picked up a pair of tweezers.

Bucky's gaze returned to the light once more. "Not really. But I did ask him a few questions."

"Did it help any?"

Bucky flinched as he felt a shock go up into his shoulder.

"Oops…that's a live wire," Stark said. Bucky could see the small presence of shock in Stark's eyes.

"Thought you knew what you were doing," Bucky stated.

Stark glared at him. "I know that if I cut this wire you'll never be able to use this arm again? Subsequently having it as dead weight. Do you know how heavy this thing really is?"

"Stark…" Banner warned. "Play nice you two."

"Yes _Dad_," Tony teased, flashing a crooked smile.

They went back into silence, save the few clips and gentle sounds of metal upon metal. Bucky once again looked up into the light. Each time the dark spot blocking his sight took longer to heal. He chewed on his bottom lip for lack of anything better to do.

"You never answered my question," Banner said, his face not but an inch away from Bucky's opened arm.

Bucky looked down to what they were doing. "Is that an explosive?"

"We should have blindfolded him," Stark said as he set the explosive on the metal tray, along with other dead wires and fail-safes.

"Answer the question, Bucky," Banner said. "Lay your head back."

Bucky growled, but did as he was told. "I don't know what it did. Apparently I was some great friend, always there and doing the best things so that Steve had a childhood that wasn't full of misery."

"He's probably very appreciative of that and wants you to see how much you've impacted his life," Banner said. "You shouldn't find it so distasteful."

"If I was so popular and well-liked, why did I seem to only have one friend? What if he's lying to me?"

"I don't think he can lie," Stark said, bringing out a new wire to fuse into Bucky's arm. "He's Mr. Goodie-Goodie."

"I don't think he has any reason to lie," Banner said. "Perhaps his view is a bit biased because he's upheld you in high regard?"

Bucky felt his heart flutter at the idea. He bit his tongue to divert the feeling. Not knowing himself….not knowing his past with Steve…not knowing how he'd handled these feelings before or even knowing how to…progress? It was beyond frustration and into the brink of maddening ferocity. Then, a small, cold thought crept into the base of his skull, warming and becoming white hot as his eyes rounded in realization. "He said I was fond of hot dogs, didn't say they were my favorite. He didn't tell me the name of my dog, if I had a dog, my favorite sports team… He didn't tell me anything about me."

Stark cocked a single brow. "And?"

Banner nodded, seeming to understand the train of thought. "You think he never focused on you, because you were too busy being focused on him?"

"Yeah, maybe. Though I saw it more of him not really being as analytical to me as I was to him. If…that makes any sense."

Banner nodded silently. "We're almost finished here. You should probably talk to him about this more. I think it's helping, even if you don't think so."

"Yeah. I think I will…" Bucky said, clenching his flesh fist, staring at it till he could feel his nails digging into the rugged skin of his hands.

* * *

><p>Bucky sat in the dark bedroom that he shared with Steve. He sat atop the bed, cross-legged with his elbows resting on his knees and his shoulders slumped over. His dark hair covered his face, obstructing his blank stare at the edge of the bed. He felt anxious. The idea of a rather one sided relationship bothered him more than he'd care to ever admit. He couldn't imagine how he must have felt, harboring such feelings toward Steve and Steve…never knowing, or caring for that matter. What if Steve had taken their relationship for granted? No…that couldn't be possible. He'd refused to fight Bucky before. He would have let Bucky kill him. There was no way…<p>

"Bruce said you wanted to talk?" Steve said, leaning on the door frame. "You okay? How was the procedure?"

"Fine."

Steve remained in the doorway, as if he didn't want to be lured further in. It agitated Bucky.

"What's my favorite color?"

Steve sighed.

"Do you fucking know it?"

Steve walked into the room, closing the door behind him. "Of course I know it!" Steve hissed.

"Then why're you so annoyed?"

"I'm not annoyed, Bucky!" Steve walked over to the window, taking a moment to regain composure. He stared at the setting sun. Bucky could see his eyes catch the light, reflecting like a shimmering blue jewel. He wondered if his eyes could do that. "I can't imagine what you're going through. But does knowing your favorite color really matter? Will it help you get your memories back? What about stories about your parents? Or growing up? What about the first time you rode a Ferris wheel with me and we got stuck at the top, so you starting throwing popcorn at people below!"

"It wasn't popcorn," Bucky suddenly said. "I had roasted almonds…" He felt like he was floating suddenly. He felt like he was spinning. His eyes rounded in elation at the realization. "It wasn't popcorn! It was almonds!" He jumped from the bed, going over to Steve and grabbing his shoulders, jumping up and down with the other, smiling man. "Jesus! It was fucking almonds!" He felt like he'd fly any moment. His heart fluttered in its boned cage as he continued to laugh.

"And people had no idea who it was, so they kept just spinning in circles!" Steve said back through laughter.

"So my dumb ass decided to start saying, "Look out below!"

"Bucky! You remember this." Their elation subsided to a strange serene calm. Bucky hadn't felt so light in years. He wore a small smile, looking into Steve's ocean blue eyes.

"Fuck my favorite color."

"It's green," Steve said pulling Bucky's head to his. Their foreheads rested against each other's. It was meant to show comradery, brotherly companionship but Bucky felt like he was violating Steve, because to him this meant so much more. He pulled back instantly, recoiling into himself.

"Bucky…"

He shook his head. He had no words to offer. He felt so ashamed suddenly. Angry, that he couldn't just come clean with his friend, confused, because he still didn't know the true extent of these feelings and sad, because he didn't know how Steve would accept them. It was starting to eat away at him. He could feel his skin cracking, having been depraved of Steve's touch for so long. His stomach spun, tying itself into knots so tight Bucky felt he'd fall from its force.

Steve took a step forward, concern etched into the lines of his face; his righteous, honorable face. Bucky stepped back, the muscles in his legs giving out, so he fell to the floor. "Bucky!"

Steve kneeled before Bucky, one hand on the man's shoulder and another moving to check the man's temperature. Bucky swatted Steve's hand away before the man could touch his forehead. "Bucky!"

"I'm not sick, Steve," Bucky said. He was pretty sure his intestines were going to start crawling out his mouth at any minute.

Steve sat across from Bucky, his wrist casually thrown over an uplifted knee. "I know the memories can probably take a lot out of you."

Bucky crossed his arms over his stomach, as if trying to pull himself further away from Steve. "That's not it either. I'm…really happy I'm remembering. Just not all the memories seem to be good ones."

Steve's brow creased. "You've remembered more?"

"Remember how I told you I can remember a feeling, but not really an image to go with it?"

"Yeah. That's been happening a lot?"

Bucky leaned his head against the dresser behind him. Did he want to do this? It had been building and building within him since he'd met Steve again. What would happen if his friend didn't feel the same? Or what if it was prohibited? He still didn't know for sure. "Y-yeah. It's just confusing. I'm fine though, honestly."

Steve's gaze lingered heavily upon Bucky, but he eventually nodded in acceptance. "I know you're not telling me everything. But you're not ready. I know. So when you're ready…you can tell me." Steve stood up, offering a hand to help Bucky up. "Want some dinner before we leave? We fly out tonight."

Bucky grabbed Steve's arm. Instead of fighting it, he simply took comfort in the soft, tingling sensation that tickled his skin where Steve held. The grip was strong, protective. Bucky smiled softly.

"Bucky?"

He blinked, coming out of his thoughts. "Oh, yeah." He looked down again and realized he was still holding Steve's arm. Hastily, he dropped his hand to his side.

"You're not entirely the same…but you're getting there. You used to always suddenly…space off like that. Never really understood why." Steve clasped him on the shoulder before leaving the room. Bucky looked on where Steve had left… He understood why.

Whispering softly into the darkening room he said, "It's because I loved you."

* * *

><p>I think I'm finally getting somewhere... I just don't like to rush plots<p> 


End file.
